


the words that get me blamed (i might write them)

by chocolateandmurder



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, F/F, Horror, Writer! Haseul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-10-25 13:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolateandmurder/pseuds/chocolateandmurder
Summary: Brilliant and reclusive writer Jo Haseul ends up at the prestigious Loona Writing Retreat, with no intention of ever finishing her last book despite how desperately her brother wants her to. But with the other writers unsettled by her nightmares, not to mention the ghost of a strange pink haired girl in the woods, its fair to say she's going to have alot of stories by the end of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Minseo's Is Who, which is an amazing song with an even better music video. This is also my first time writing horror, so yay for trying things! Big thank you to all the friends that read and betaed this fic for me, particularly Rachelle and Hana. All possible warnings listed at the end note.
> 
> Edit: [ here's a horror playlist inspired by the fic which I reccommend listening to while reading ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3tbe5tNcgMR77CECr1wuxb?si=DX7SFq_mRw-y0FNhAq3ACQ)

_once upon a time in a village, there was a silly and childish girl _

Haseul hates the sound of running water. 

Fountains bubble on the manicured lawns, the gurgling sounds weirdly omnipresent, making her skin crawl. She's sure that its supposed to be calming and serene, but she's also pretty sure that a sedate mansion with marble floors and indoor gardens is supposed to be breathtaking and enviable, not a sort of prison. 

The sun curls in tendrils all over the floor, golden arms reaching out to grab the legs of her chair, bush her lap. Opposite to her sits her brother, smiling in the kind of way that's both kind and predatory. They both have the same noses and eyes, but in this light, his brown pupils look golden, almost like he's not quite human. 

"Aren't you excited?" says her brother, smiling self indulgently. "It's finally the chance for you to do what you've always wanted!"

__It's the chance for you to finally get me out o__f here, she thinks numbly. There's no need to say it out loud though, because her brother is a lot of things but naive isn't one of them. Instead his lips curl into a bigger smirk, self congratulating and indulgent. 

"You can leave tomorrow" he says casually, getting up to adjust his suit, "I've already asked the servants to pack everything. The car will be here at seven am sharp. Be ready"

Haseul says nothing, the fountains ringing in her ears. She's always been a bit too sensitive to sounds, driven to hole herself up in her room for days on end with nothing but the rhythm of her breathing and the clicking of her keyboard to keep herself company. She would like to keep doing that, she thinks to herself. Like to spend her days with nothing but her rough drafts to keep her company, without any real worries but the next plot point, food being delivered to her room, and sleep optional. But nothing's the same. The feeling of death pervades the house, despite how hard the servants have tried to beautify it for the autumn. 

She misses her mother. It's been months and she's still looking around like any second she will appear in one of the hallways. 

Her brother stops at the doorway, his hand on the door knob.

"I love you, sister" he says, his voice unreadable. "Think about me when you write your book"

Haseul doesn't say anything back. After all, people have stopped listening to her a long time ago. The water is still splashing in the fountains outside, an irregular, chaotic drum beat. 

*

"I've heard this writing retreat is very difficult to get into" says Yeojin, clearly excited, "I looked it up online and it looks so good! It's a huge house, and there's woods everywhere, and you get a gigantic room all to yourself-"

"-Yeonjin" mumbled Haseul, head already hurting from the way Yeojin is slamming the accelerator and pulling hairpin turns violently, "can you please shut up"

Yeojin snorts, but doesn't say retort anything, used to Haseul's need for silence. Outside, the scenery blurs into green as they drive past huge trees and vegetation, occasionally hitting tree roots that Yeojin just casually revs over like its nothing. Haseul regrets buying her a car everyday, but especially now. 

The journey had taken them several hours as they made their way up into the mountains, away from the city and into thick woods. The sky had been overcast the entire day, promising rain without delivering, and as a result everything looks both muted, trees in darker shades of green than normal. Haseul decided impulsively that morning to leave behind most of her luggage and only bring a backpack with a change of clothes and her laptop, almost like she's staying overnight instead of a whole month. She doesn't know why, but she wanted to piss someone off, even if the only person she's going to inconvenience is herself ultimately. 

And looking around at the long winding roads, the thickness of the forest, and how they haven't passed a single house in the last twenty minutes, its not like she can just pack up and move the moment she decides she has enough and wants to go home. 

They pull up at the end of a gravel driveway, a huge three story house appearing ahead of them. Its large and intimidating, part stone and part modern wood extensions, in the kind of way that Haseul knows the building has a long history. Every window has large stone frames, and-Haseul squints to see it-is that a bell tower at the far end? 

Yeojin parks haphazardly, in a way that Haseul knows is going to be a health and safety issue. "We're heeereeeee!" she shrieks, like she's the one who's staying and not Haseul. "Come on unnie, we have to introduce you to everyone and announce that we're going to kick their ass!"

"It's a writing retreat, not a fight to the death" mumbles Haseul, getting out of the car as slowly as possible. 

"Doesn't matter!" shrieks Yeojin, bouncing on the balls of her feet and pretending to punch the air. Haseul can appreicate what she's trying to do. The kid had been relentlessly upbeat all day trying to make Haseul’s situation slightly more bearable, but Haseul’s so bitter and tired she can’t even feign appreciation. 

They walk in through the house's double glass doors, the automated sensor opening for them noiselessly. Inside, the room is arranged something like a hotel reception: a round table with a huge flower vase in the middle, mismatched sofas scattered around artistically for people to wait at, and a curving desk at the far end with a notepad and landline. Light floods in through the room, weaving in patterns on the furniture thanks to the floor to ceiling windows. Outside, the woods are beautiful, branches pressing up against the windows like the greenery is spilling into the room. Haseul can see why the writing retreat is in such high demand. Right now though, the place is empty with the exception of one girl behind the table with her headphones on and head buried in a notebook. 

"Excuuuuse me!" Yeojin sing songs as she strides up to the desk. The girl jerks up, and Haseul notes with surprise she looks incredibly young, maybe even Yeojin's age. "Sorry" she says sheepishly, taking off her headphones, "'M filling in for the boss right now. Welcome to Loona Writing Retreats! Can you tell me your name, I'll double check the list"

"This is my sister Jo Haseul" says Yeojin, pride leaking into her voice as she glances over her shoulder. She always looks at Haseul with so much love, like even though Haseul has been burnt out and reclusive for years now Yoejin has only ever sees the sister from five years ago. It makes her a little emotional, if she's being honest. It's hard to comprehend someone believing in her so much. 

"Yup, we have a Jo Haseul confirmed to attend!" says the girl, crossing a name off the list a ballpoint pen, the paper making a light __snick__ sound with the friction. "Hi, I'm Heejin, I'm a volunteer for the summer. We're so excited to have you at our retreat! I'll be happy to take your baaags-" she said, petering off the moment she realised Haseul didnt have any luggage. "I mean, I'll be happy to show you to our dining room, where we're having brunch!"

Haseul just nods as Heejin motions to another room. A set of double wooden doors swing open, to reveal a huge buffet area, decorated in around the same way as the rest of the reception. Stylish, trendy furniture is arranged loosely around the room, and there's a long white table outlining the room, with the usual buffet fare. Far more intimidating, however, are the people.. For one thing, they all stop to stare at her the moment she enters the room, which is terrifying

They're all women, and all look impossibly young. 

Oh god, Haseul is the oldest here isn't she?

"Hi everyone!" says Heejin, "we're really excited to announce that Jo Haseul will be joining us for this writing retreat. Everyone please welcome her!"

There's no applause, like Heejin is probably expecting. Instead people shift, getting out of their seats, and murmurs start to break out in the room. "Haseul? __The Jo Haseul? Here?"__

Haseul just smiles coldly, in the kind of way that lets everyone know that if they have a problem with it, they can confront her directly, which no one will do. 

It's a blonde girl who greets her first, her eyes kind and friendly despite her intimidatingly stunning beauty. "Hi, I'm Jung Jinsoul" she says, holding out her hand to shake. Haseul takes it, noting how long and thin the other girl's fingers, the surprisingly firm grasp. "It's nice to meet you" she says. 

Another girl slides up behind Jinsoul and rests her hands on her shoulders in a casually possessive kind of way, raven haired and taller, equally stunning. "This is Sooyoung" said Jinsoul, motioning to the other girl. "She's my partner and collaborator"

Haseul doesn't miss the term partner. "Are you both writers?" she asks, thinking it would be interesting seeing their writing styles together, considering they have two opposite kinds of personalities. 

"I'm a performance artist" says Sooyoung, and Haseul just barely manages to stop rolling her eyes, thinking of all the "performance artists" she would met back in her college days. 

"I'm a poet" explains Jinsoul, "and I'm working on a spoken word piece for an exhibit. Sooyoung's collaborating with me to include a performance"

"That sounds lovely" says Haseul neutrally, thinking of how she avoids galleries like plague now. 

Sooyoung speaks for the first time. "So. What are you working on now? I heard you quit writing?"

Jinsoul makes an aborted motion, face flushing, but she's saved by another girl gently pushing herself forward and giving Haseul a chance to avoid that conversation. "Hi, I'm Hyunjin" says the new girl, smiling with a barely there dimple. "I write and illustrate comics! It's so nice to meet you!"

"Didn't you do __Once Upon A Blue Moon __for Image comics?" asks Haseul, surprised she even remembers. 

Hyunjin flushes, smiling even wider. She really does look vibrant and youthful, clearly a prodigy. Haseul used to be like that once. "Yes! I'm really proud of that work. I'm actually working on a sequel of that here!"

"That's amazing. I wish you the best" says Haseul, surprising herself by meaning it. Even Yeojin claps brightly, sensing her sister actually sounds like a human being this time. 

A set of side doors Haseul didn't even notice bursts open, and a girl with red hair and bangs comes bouncing through the entrance with the kind of energy that makes Haseul immediately afraid. "Hi! What are we all waiting around for?" she says in a chirpy voice, and then her gaze falls on Haseul. "Oh my GOD" she screams, looking absolutely delighted. "Are you THE Jo Haseul?"

"Not her clone" mumbled Haseul, feeling herself retreat inside herself. Whoever this is doesn't seem to really care about her controversy though, they just look unabashedly excited. 

"Amazing! And you are?" says the girl, motioning to Yeojin

"My sister, Yeojin" says Haseul, letting a bit of protectiveness creep into her voice despite knowing that Yeojin is probably rolling her eyes. 

The girl claps her hands together and shrieks excitedly. "You guys look so alike!" she says

__We're not even blood related, and I have an identical twin brother t__hinks Haseul a little viciously, but doesnt say anything. 

Yeojin on the other hand, fist bumps the other girl, delighted. "We're both so good looking!" she says, tossing her hair back exaggeratedly, which cracks a smile from everyone, even Sooyoung. 

"Will you be staying with us for the night, Yoejin?" asked another woman standing off to the side. She had soft brown hair falling over her shoulders in waves, and was dressed simply in a worn red shirt and jeans instead of the obviously expensive clothes everyone else has donned. 

"No, I'm heading back before it gets dark, sorry I know everyone was excited about my talent" Yeojin says cheekily, setting off ripples of laughter. "Are you also a writer?"

"I'm Junguen, and no, I'm the owner" says Junguen, smiling welcomingly. "We're very excited to have a writer of your calibre here, Haseul" she says, smiling, but Haseul's already paranoid that it's some sort of backhanded compliment. 

"Thanks" she says stiffly, and then because Yeojin elbows her painfully, she adds, "I'm really excited to work together with everyone else. I hope we all finish what we're working on"

She realises too late that the last sentence is a marked thing for her to say, considering she hasn't finished something in five years. It doesn't matter. She isn't planning to finish something during this retreat either, but its created an even more awkard moment than it was all the way in the beginning. 

"Anyway, have some food!" says Jinsoul a second too late, shoving a plate into her hand. 

*

Brunch was only slightly weird, all things considered. Of course everyone immediately split into their own groups to avoid talking to Haseul more, but Yeojin gabbled enough to keep them both engaged. The food was good too, and Haseul felt her appetite returning somehow as she gobbled down eggs and tasty rice dishes. The food was __good, __so good that for a while Haseul almost forgot to be withdrawn and weird and chatted with Yeojin normally, laughing at her jokes and poking fun at her like she used to. 

It was a good afternoon, so good that for a while all the burdens of home- her mother’s death, her brother’s half smile, even the nightmares- slip away as she’s surrounded by the woods, but as the sun starts to set the real world creeps back in, and she can’t help feeling sad and bitter again as Yeojin prepares to leave. 

It’s late in the afternoon, the sky turning pink like a bruise when Haseul and Yeojin both leave the house and make their way to the driveway. Yeojin pats her on the head, like she isnt diminutive compared to Haseul, and smiles cheekily, energy still high as it was at the beginning of the day. 

“Do well Haseul, don’t actually destroy the other writers” she says. 

“I’m not destroying anyone” Haseul mumbled, “I’m just here to write. And I don’t have any talent”

“Oh yeah, sure, sure” said Yeojin, chuckling. 

Watching Yeojin about to leave, Haseul is suddenly seized with some sort of panic. She's suddenly convinced that this is the last time she'll ever see Yeojin, that this moment in the twilight where Yeojin's hair is tousled from the wind, cheeks red with the cold and her soft white blouse making her look impossibly grown up will be the only image Haseul will ever get to keep. She gets that its a natural, albeit irrational response to loss, that not everyone leaves one day and never comes back, but it doesn't stop her heart beating ridiculously fast, or her eyes scanning desperately, taking everything in. How did Yeojin get so big? When did her cheeks lose her babyfat? How is Haseul supposed to live with the fact that she let the Yeojin's formative years slip by while she lose the fight with her own monsters, five years of silence and outings cut short when she should have given her all the love she could?

Another deeper part of her, one that she's too ashamed to admit to, is afraid of being left alone with the other writers. Yeojin, out of everyone in her life, has an impossible capacity for forgiveness. She's the only one still sees Haseul as talented, as having things worth saying, and once she leaves, Haseul knows she'll slowly be stripped back and exposed by the weakness of her words, her inability to write the way she used to. She knows Yeojin believes in her out of some wide eyed, young wonder, but she needs it. She doesn't want to admit that she's a fraud. 

Yeojin glances up at Haseul, like she can sense her step sister's thoughts. Then she smiles in the kind of way that is reassuring beyond her years. 

Haseul watches as the younger girl walks up to her and cups Haseul's cheeks in her hands, like a mirror image of how Haseul used to when she was younger and far more caring. 

"Sis" whispers Yeojin, impossibly gently, like an echo of all the times that Haseul used to in past, in the dead of the night after a nightmare, when they would hide in the basement as their parents fought, after Haseul published her first novel and told Yeojin she would never complete another, and countless other incidents, "It's okay. You're strong. I'm here. It'll be okay"

Haseul nods, tearing up slightly, though she does her best to blink everything away. Yeojin swims in front of her blurry eyes, her white blouse getting warped as Haseul desperately tries not to cry. Then she gets into the car, Haseul hears the sound of the engine starting, and she's gone, leaving with the sun as the sky turns darker and darker.

When she turns around, eyes still swimming with tears though, she can swear she sees her sister-or atleast a white blouse just like hers-standing in the midst of the woods, watching her. She rubs her eyes, letting the tears drip onto the gravel, disbelieving, and looks up again. 

There's nothing there. 

Haseul forces herself to turn around and walk back into the house, feeling shaky. She's exhausted, and so alone. She just wants to sit in her room and cry. 

*

Late at night, she makes it to her room. It's pleasant and fancy, as she would have expected from such an expensive writing retreat. Bare wooden panelling, hardwood floors, a big cork board where she can stick up notes and post-its for a book she's never going to complete. Large floor to ceiling windows open up to the woods like the rest of the house, though as the sun sets, the woods look less and less pleasant, and more and more dangerous. She can't imagine anyone leaving in the night and heading out into the woods would end well for them. 

She chucks her stupid backpack on the bed and sits on the bed, her head in her hands. She fucked up, in every single possible way, from her packing to her interactions with the other artists today. She'll have to swallow her pride and ask someone to drive her into town to buy new clothes tomorrow, and it's going to be humiliating. 

Outside, the leaves rustle, the sound somehow reminiscent of a hundred whispers, fingertips crawling down her spine. She shivers, even though that she's warm and safe inside, arms wrapping subconsciously around herself. She's so-

\- alone. Maybe she was always alone, back at home with no one on her side, but at least she had some control over her surroundings. Now...

She looks up, and realises with a start that there's a mirror just above her reach, closer to the ceiling than the wall panelling. Maybe it's some sort of modern designer thing, knowing the way the rest of the house is arranged, but it's still odd. The angle means she can't really look at her outfit, or comb her hair in the mirror, or any number of things people use mirrors for. Instead it reflects back a sliver of the room, the image of her small frame curled up in her bed, her back to the windows and the forest outside. 

The wind suddenly picks up again, and the rustling becomes much worse, leaves and branches scraping against the walls loudly. She watches as the girl in the mirror flinches in response, drawing in on herself even more. The room is medium sized, but in the distorted angle, it looks massive, windows slanted in a way that makes it seem like the woods are going to spill into the room. The trees writhe outside, flashes of green and dark brown and then-

-a flash of white

Haseul jerks upright without even realising she's doing, drags the curtains over the mirror, and rushes to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She grabs a towel on autopilot, her brain overloaded with dread as she turns on the shower, going through the motions of getting ready for bed. 

No going crazy. No hallucinating. She's not the same Haseul from four years ago. She's not going to lose her mind again.


	2. when you get closer (i like it)

_Haseul can't breathe. All around her, the water swells, pouring down her shoulders, pulling her under. She wants to scream, but she's so afraid._

_She wakes up. _

Her shoulders are shaking, lungs collapsing onto themselves, but she forces herself to take deep breaths, straighten up. Even though she knows it wasn't a full bodied nightmare, the kind that leaves her screaming and tearing her hair out, she still listens faintly for the sound of foot steps, people running to her room out of concern, afraid that she's being strangled, or having a seizure, or broken her leg. Things that were somehow far more plauisble than being tormented and crazy apparently. 

Her fingers itch for a pen and paper, to jot the dream down. None of that though. She will not write, no matter how therepeutic it is. 

She looks around the room instead, the furniture odd and distorted in the dark. Her rooms feels stuffy and overheated despite its size. She's thirsty too. She slides out of bed, the sheets making the odd sounds as it rubs against her bare thighs, and then her bare feet finds the floor, toes curling from how cold the stone is. She makes her way to the door and down the hallway, blindly stumbling along the route to the kitchen she remembers. 

She wants cake suddenly. Her mouth is watering as she feels her limbs become loose, suddenly out of her control. She's dreaming of cake, rich and moist, cloyingly sweet, as she gets pulled forward, legs jerking oddly. She looks down and realises with a start that she can see her feet now. She's no longer walking in the dark. 

Instead, everything is bathed in a pinkish purple light, lurid and hallucinatory. The modern hardwood floor underneath her has transformed into stone tiles, each edge rough and painful as she stumbles over them, like her body's being dragged. Suddenly, like a string pulling it, her elbow jerks up, above her head, and stays in that position. 

She can't even look up to see where she's heading towards.

She can't move her fucking neck. 

She tries to scream, but her vocal cords aren't her anymore. All she can do is strain her eyes as much as possible, trying to see her periphery. The room shifts in and out of focus, eyes watering from her need to blink. In the bluriness though, she can see something ahead of her. 

Something white. Like a dress. As she keeps getting dragged forward, scraping her nail against one of the tiles painfully and unable to even call out, she swears she can see the outline of a foot, taking a step backwards. Like whoever the foot belongs to is wearing all white, and gingerly walking backwards in front of her while she drags Haseul by invisible strings. 

Anger wells up in Haseul as her eyes start to drip water, mixing with the fear. How dare someone take away her control? Steal her away from somewhere she feels safe? Use her body like it belongs to her? She manages to grit her teeth, something intense and vicious blooming inside her. She'll fucking tear whoever it is apart with her teeth alone if she has to. She'll kill them. Strangle them. Her head is pounding, eyes swimming. She feels crazy honestly. 

Suddenly though, the foot disappears and so does the control, like all her strings have been cut. She falls headfirst, just barely managing to land on her hands, bruising up her knee in the process. All the rage floods out of her suddenly, like a cup being tipped empty. Instead, her breaths come out loud and erratic, heart pounding. 

Where the fuck is she? What's happening? 

She's still in a hallway, only this time even narrower and dark. There's a light up ahead, glowing pink and purple, but instead of being inviting, it fills her with dread. 

Some primal part of her understands the rules: that she can't walk back, and that she has to enter the light to leave. 

But she doesn't want to. She knows something about seeing whats at the end of the corridor will destroy her even more than everything she's already been through. 

Her throat is hoarse, like she's been screaming for hours now, or someone strangled her in the time that she was dreaming of drowning. She tries to say something, and it comes out like a whimper. She swallows and tries again. 

"Please" she says, voice cracking as she kneels facing the light, begging for something she can't put words to. 

There's no answer, but something about the atmosphere of the hallway changes, like it gets darker and the light pulses brighter. She whimpers again, broken and so alone, no one to call for help. 

Shaking all over, she gets up. There's an ugly scar on her knee from falling headfirst and her legs feel like jelly, but she forces herself to take a step forward. She tastes bile in her mouth as her body disagrees, head spinning. 

Her vision goes black at the edges, but she forces herself to keep walking. The light pulses brighter, like its inviting her forward. Through her failing vision, she can see a....throne? 

The hallway ends with a single armchair, she realises. There's something sitting on it royally, legs crossed and back ramrod straight, pink and purple light glowing around them like an aura. It's a girl, judging by the long hair. 

Haseul stumbles again and cries out, her bruised knee hitting the stones under her. The figure turns towards her and it's-

-The girl is-

-Her face is-

"HASEUL" screams a voice inches away from her. 

Haseul jerks up so quickly that she nearly hits the girl's head above her. She flails, grabbing at her knee blindly, confused as to why she's getting tangled up in sheets. Why isn't she bleeding? What's happening?

Sitting on top of her is Sooyoung, holding her down by her shoulders. The proximity is intrusive, almost sexual, and Haseul shoves her without thinking. She doesn't fall though off the bed though, clearly toned and strong. Instead she climbs off Haseul calmly, slipping her shoes back on. 

Haseul finally manages to sit up and look around the rest of the room. It's daylight, she realises, and the sun is slowly flooding her room. It must early morning, judging by how weak the light is, but more importantly, every other girl at the retreat is standing in her room with various expressions of horror on their faces, staring at her. 

Junguen clears her throat and speaks up first. She looks the least horrified, almost apologetic. "We organised an early morning run today" she explains, gesturing around the room, "and we were going to ask you to join. When Heejin came upstairs to see if you'd like to though-"

"-you were screaming" mumbles Heejin. Haseul didnt even see her intitally, because she's cowering behind one of the tables. The poor kid must have been terrified.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion but the door was locked and we weren't sure if you were in danger somehow" says Jungeun. 

Haseul her arms around her chest. "So y'all broke down the damn door?" she snaps, harsher than intended. 

Sooyoung crosses her arms in a mirror image. She's standing slightly in front of Jinsoul and the loud girl from yesterday, almost protectively. "No I climbed through the window" she says flatly. 

Haseul looks over her shoulder, and sure enough, the window is open, cold air flooding the room. She thinks about the figure she saw yesterday, and shivers. 

"Don't ever touch me" she says to Sooyoung flatly. 

The other girl shrugs, less harsh though. "You were trashing so much you nearly fell off the bed and hit your head" she says. "Was just trying to protect your skull" 

"We're really sorry" says the loud girl from yesterday, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "We weren't trying to invade your privacy, we just got scared" 

Haseul shrugs, apathetic. She can feel the atmosphere of the room shifting and it annoys her. Yesterday, everyone probably thought she was a failed writer with an inflated ego. Now, they can probably tell that she's not arrogant, she's damaged, and the sympathy is pissing her off. 

"Haseul, we're sorry to disturb you so early in the morning. I can bring breakfast up to your room if you'd like" says Jungeun, clearly moving to get control of the situation. "Everyone else, lets go ahead with the run please"

"Shut the window before you go" mumbles Haseul, her voice still hoarse. Heejin finally gets up from behind the table, walks to the other end of the room, and secures the window in place. When she turns around, she's still staring at the floor, too afraid to make eye contact with Haseul. "I'm really sorry" she mumbles again. 

"It's fine" says Haseul listlessly. She's angry, but not at the kid. Heejin seems slightly relieved at her response, which is good enough. 

One by one, everyone starts filing out of the room awkwardly, the sound of the scraping of their shoes on the bedroom floor absolutely aggravating to Haseul. The door is shut with a barely audible click, and then Haseul is alone, watching the sun rise up. 

*

She stays in her room, doing nothing untill her stomach grumbles, and then she curses herself for needing food and water like everyone else. She makes her way downstairs, noting almost viciously that there is no stone floor or strange hallways anywhere, just the same, modern trendy furniture that's always been there and probably will be for YEARS, after this week's retreat is over and she's already failed at the writer thing. 

She pushes the double doors open, mouth watering involuntarily at the prospect of a delicious spread like yesterday. The room, this time though, is empty, devoid of people and the noise of the previous time she was there. 

"Haseul?" said a voice behind her. Haseul jumps slightly, but turns around to see Junguen and schools her face into something normal. "Hi" she says, "I was wondering if the offer for breakfast is still up?"

Junguen chuckles at that, throaty and somehow pleasant. "It's literally my job to feed you, so yeah" she says "You'll have to take it in alone with me in the kitchen though, I'm afraid I've closed the buffet till lunch"

"Kinky" mutters Haseul under breath in response and follows Junguen out of the room. 

Junguen leads her through a door tucked away in the corner of the reception, and then through a dark corridor, not a single light anywhere. Just as Haseul starts to worry that she's being lowkey kidnapped and taken to a dungeon, Junguen opens another door, revealing a gigantic industrial sized kitchen, definetely as old as the house. There's a stone fireplace at end, large enough to cook over, and endless shelves lining the room. Pots and pans hang from the ceiling in complicated array of shapes and sizes, and there's somehow enough room for a gigantic kitchen counter, a modern electrical stove top, and a dining table large enough to seat six people. The amount of space makes Haseul's head spin a little. 

Junguen pulls out a chair for Haseul, and Haseul almost falls into it, her eyes still taking in everything in the kitchen, especially the endless number of pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. How did all of this space fit into the house? How does one person use all those pots? Surely the writing retreats never got that crowded?

Jungeun turns on the electric stove and rummages through a few shelves. "You said you wanted the vegetarian option right?" she asks. 

Haseul makes a vague noise of confirmation, her stomach choosing that moment to rumble extremely loudly. Junguen has disappeared behind the kitchen counter, but Haseul still hears her chuckle. When she reappears though, she's holding a plate of breakfast food wrapped in cling film, so Haseul immeditately forgives her. 

Food is placed on the table, cling film free, and Junguen disappears again somewhere to procure forks and knives for Haseul. Haseul doesn't even bother with table manners though, practically inhaling the omlette and fruit salad with the kind of gusto that she used to only have back in college, when she was living on fumes and shitty instant noodles. 

Jungeun just sits opposite to her looking amused, but not saying anything. It's only after Haseul devours half the food on her plate and bothers making eye contact that she opens her mouth. 

"For the record, you're more than welcome to have your meals here, or in your room. You wouldn't be the only writer who does that if you did"

Haseul thinks about how she would definetely like to avoid ever running into the group again after their horrified looks this morning. "Who else takes their meals privately?" she asks. Having secrets always made you draw boundaries between yourself and everyone else, and then eventually everyone who didn't know the secret began to meld into a gigantic, single unit together. She forgets not everyone is equally close. 

"Jinsoul takes most of her meals entirely alone" says Jungeun. 

"Jinsoul?" asks Haseul, surprised, "aren't she and Sooyoung like....attached at the hip or dating or something?"

Jungeun shrugs. "Or something"

"The point is" she continues gently while Haseul inhales her food, "I understand that different people have different ways of coping with their stresses, whatever those stresses are. I run these writing retreats for everyone, not just the people who thrive by sharing their work. Its your writing retreat as much as its theirs. You're free to ask for whatever you want"

_It's your writing retreat as much as its yours. _

_Could it be, though? _thought Haseul, thinking about the look on her brother's face as he told her he'd signed her up on her behalf. Could something be yours if you were effectively coerced into it? Or if you made those decisions when you were so sad that you couldn't think?

She gulps up some tea, ignoring how it scalds her throat, instead. Stressing about her autonomy is tricky road, and she doesn't have time for that right now. She has important things to do. Like annoy Yeojin over the phone and not complete the work that she's here for. 

"Do alot of writers make weird demands? How many do you get?" she asks, deflecting and wanting to change the topic of conversation. Jungeun shrugs in response. "Not really" she says, "most of them only want to be left undisturbed while they work, and I set a policy a few years ago that I would only admit women"

"How come?" asks Haseul, taking another large sip of her tea and narrowly avoiding coughing it up. 

"I-" Junguen hesitates slightly, then smiles ruefully. "I got divorced" she says finally. 

"Oh"

Junguen gets up, and starts puttering around the impossibly gigantic kitchen, looking impossibly small. "I used to run these retreats with my husband" Junguen explains, not making eye contact, "I've always had some of the local high school girls work here, but my husband and I used to invite alot more people, run huge workshops with other published authors, organise trips to town so the writers could relax. I liked that but my husband-" she stops and hesitates, biting her lip. 

"You don't have to tell me" says Haseul, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. This feels too raw, too personal to be entrusted to her, when she's all mistakes and sharp edges. 

Junguen does an odd half chuckle. "I mean I think you deserve to know, more than anyone" she says wryly. 

Then

"My husband reviewed your first book" 

Haseul feels a jolt in her chest, like being shot with an arrow. Her first book. That half baked, doomed little thing that became unreasonably popular, far before she was ready. 

Sometimes she remembers exactly who she was when that book got published. She sees that person back in her mind, almost like she's picturing someone else. College Haseul, with her long unruly hair tucked under her beanie and her endless energy, someone who'd talk all hour at a seminar without ever thinking too much of it. She thinks about the sleepless nights she spent slaving over the novel she was so proud of, her room littered with instant noodle cups and teabags. Writing almost used to sustain her back then, like it was tapping into her a life force instead of work that would bleed her dry. She knew, even back then, how flawed it was-a dumb conventional fantasy story about a boy and his dragon-but she loved it just because it was hers. God she loved every word on every page so much. 

The book was published somehow, from a company that was desperate to put something out into the market. Haseul published it on a Friday, then went back to her shitty minimum wage job on a Saturday. She figured it would barely be a blip on the radar, and then when she was smarter, more talented, she'd put something out to be proud of. The book was meant to be inconsequental. 

Except, two things happened. 

For one, she came home one night after a closing shift, turned the light on, and turned around to see her mother sitting in the kitchen. 

Her mother had one of those faces that was perennially ageless, somehow never bound to the constraints of time. She was also impossible to get ahold of, even though she claimed to have retired from her job as a financial advisor years ago. There was always some charity event, some ball, some important overseas trip that the children couldn't come on. Haseul and her brother didn't really care. They both floated through high school and into university, barely keeping in touch. 

Except now her mother had appeared in the kitchen, almost like a ghost. 

"Do you....need anything?" asked Haseul, cringing at her own awkwardness. Her mother's smile was frozen. The refrigerator hummed. 

"No" said her mother. Then she motioned to the chair opposite. "Sit down" she said. 

Haseul. 

Her mother's smile softened, almost imperceptably. "Haseul" she said, the word almost tender from the way she drew out the syllables. "My daughter"

An awkward pause. 

"Yup, thats me" said Haseul nervously. 

"You know I love you and I'm proud of you, right?" asked her mother. 

Actually Haseul had no idea. She'd spent her whole childhood slaving away at school, winning awards and pulling grades SHE was proud of. She'd never once assumed her mother was even interested, let alone proud. 

"Thank you" she managed finally. 

Her mother reached across the counter to put her hand on Haseul's shoulder and Haseul almost flinched. "I want you to know" she said, still smiling oddly, "that there is no one I trust more than you. You're a smart girl. You'll figure things out"

"Okay" said Haseul in response, not even beginning to comperehend what was going on. 

Her mother got up, still calm and dignified, and picked up her brief case. "Goodbye Haseul" she said, her heels clicking on the floor as she made her way to the door. 

Haseul sometimes replays the image in her head, and not once does she ever remember her mother turning around. 

Haseul doesn't remember when she fell asleep that night. But she does remember, in excruitiating detail, waking up the next day to frantic texts that her mother had packed up and disappeared overnight, and that her book was being torn apart in a high profile review. 

She still remembers her brother's fury. The slightly mad look in her eye when he lashed out at her for being the last person to see her and not try and stop her from leaving. She remembers going to her parents home to stare blankly at the now empty drawers and cubaords, the untouched space on her bed that her mother used to sleep in. She remembers the sense of despair she felt at reading the new york times review, the writer having dug into every single achievement since middle school and her entire family history to argue that she should have done so much better as someone who's been handed everything on a silver platter. She remembers the numbness she felt as she sat on the floor, the phone in her hand, and wondered how everything could fall apart so quickly. 

If she had to put it into words, it seemed like the only lesson she could learn from that night was that everyone expected something from her, and she would never live up to them. Things seem to disappear, shift unexpectedly and suddenly become meaningless, and she had to let go of everything that she thought would be hers forever. She remembers the thought fermenting, taking place in her mind, and she remembers not being able to find any way to disagree with it. She was lost. She'd always be wrong, no matter how hard she tried otherwise. 

The review though, the review was brutal and foaming at the mouth. She knew, even back then, that it probably took someone incredibly precise and cruel to generate something like that, as much as it had been hidden behind flowery language and elaborate adjectives. Definetely someone who understood the power he had to drop intensely personal details about her life and family, with just enough plausible deniability to avoid being responsible for the harassment she would face afterwards. 

Back when she had read it, she'd felt so alone. Now, looking at Junguen, she remembers that people are more than words on the page, that whoever that man was, he had so many other people he had power over. 

Jungeun clears her throat nervously. "When I found out you were coming here" she said, "I debated whether or not I should tell you. I don't know what happened since then, why you wrote another book and then never followed up-" she glances at Haseul nervously, then clears her throat and looks away. 

(Haseul feels a spike of pain bloom in her chest when she thinks of her almost completed draft, how desperately everyone in her life wants her to finish it. )

"But I think, considering how I know what its like to suffer because someone has absolutely ripped you apart" says Jungeun, a little more bravely, "I think you deserve to know that I obviously cannot fix everything, but I really will do my best at this writing retreat. This should be a safe space. This IS a safe space."

The kitchen seems different the moment Jungeun says the words, like something about the air has shifted. Haseul can't tell what it is. There's an odd energy, like a tightrope between relief and pain at being reminded of her past, and she suddenly realises that right at this moment, sitting in a strange kitchen in the woods, being served food lovingly by someone who was linked to her suffering, would be the last time she could shut herself in her room and pretend the world didn't exist. 

"Thank you" she says simply. And Jungeun nods, like its that simple. Like she understands.

The table is cleared, kitchen tidied up, and the two of them make it out of the kitchen and into the dark corridor in silence, some sort of strange understanding between them. The journey from back to the surface seems longer now, almost remniscent of her dream. 

When they finally make it back to the reception, it's noon, and the sun is a dazzling, playing off surfaces, bouncing off the walls. Haseul feels bathed in its golden light, almost changed as a person. The woods stretch out beyond the walls, emerald and inviting suddenly, an expanse to lose herself. 

"I think" she says, feeling oddly at peace, "that I'm going to join the rest of the group" 


	3. people think im crazy (pt 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter turned out so long i had to split it in half lmao. anyway haseul and vivi first contact! whats up with sooyoung! why are woods scary? find out!

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep _mumbled Haseul to herself, and then immediately shook her head hard. She hated that poem, so much, especially thanks to that stupid English teacher that would hammer it into her head over and over again that it was truly the greatest writing ever in the world. 

Woods weren't lovely. They were cold and had annoying big tree roots she kept tripping over and no proper sense of direction. And they weren't even deep, how could a single space be deep? Woods weren't oceans, and they definetely didn't stretch on for miles and miles these days. 

Or atleast she hopes so. Because she stops for a second, the cool breeze lifting strands of her hair, and admits that she's lost. 

Jungeun sent her out saying there was a path, but she sure as fuck can't find it now. Maybe she's actually going in the right direction, and the little bit of room she can find in between the fallen leaves and gnarling tree roots means that she's not lost at all. Or maybe- and she gulps when she admits how likely this is- she's abandoned the path way back, and is actually very, very lost now. 

There's no sound except for the rustling of leaves and the soft whispers of the wind. Haseul shivers, desperately straining her ears for the sound of voices, footsteps, anything that indicates she's on the right track. 

Behind her, there's the sound of snapping wood, an indication of a presence. Haseul whips around, her heart beating fast in her chest. "Hello?" she says, her voice coming out more of a sqeauk. "Is there anyone there?" 

No response, but the leaves are rustling so loud Haseul can barely hear herself. 

Haseul takes a step forward, flinching when she accidentally steps on something and it shatters with a large crack. Between the tree barks though, she can see the a figure with her back to her, long blonde hair tumbling down the other girl's shoulders. 

"Jinsoul?" says Haseul, relieved, and stepping forward into the clearing. "Jinsoul, I got lost, I had no idea what was going on-"

The girl turns, and its definetely not Jinsoul. 

The girl is obviously younger, with a face that reminds Haseul of a doll. Big expressive blue eyes, porcelain pale skin, and a smile that's painted red. Her hair is thick and golden, almost artificial looking, and she's just staring at the ground. 

Haseul feels her breath catch in her throat. She wants to say something, but everything is so surreal, she's not sure what she should even say. She feels almost afraid as the girl's gaze shifts upwards, her eyes meeting Haseul, and smiles, even though its clouded and drowsy. Then she raises her hand, and Haseul realises with a start that she's holding a single red rose, too perfectly preserved to have come from the forest

She watches in abject horror, almost dazedly, as the porcelain girl holds up the rose to her face and swallows the petals. 

It's not violent or bloody, in fact its almost beautiful despite how bizarre it is, but something about the image, especially with how the girl is looking directly at Haseul, makes her very afraid, like she's just seen something twisted and morbid. Lipstick smears on the petals as the girl swallows the last of the rose, almost like blood. She doesn't look quite human. 

Haseul can suddenly feel her legs again. She scrambles, running in the opposite direction blindly, not even daring to look over her shoulder in case she's being followed. Every single sound is ringing in her ears, whether it be the rustling of the leaves or the sound of her footsteps or even her heart beating in her ears. She hits her toe hard on a tree root and nearly trips headfirst, catching herself just in time. 

Judging from the colour of her socks she isn't bleeding, but she can't get a gauge on the pain like this, crouched in the shadow of a huge tree and clutching her ankle. Around her, the forest is a nightmare of sounds and space, trees creaking and leaves making a racket and-

-the sound of running water. 

Haseul starts. And then listens again. 

There it is again, the unmistakeable sound of running water, gurgling and splashing like the fountains at home. 

This is it, thinks Haseul bitterly, the pain in her leg hitting her like a wall of bricks. It's been a long time coming, but absolutely no one can say this is suprising.

She's lost her mind. 

She gets up shakily, brushing her thighs, ignoring the feeling flooding her system, whatever it is. 

She should have listened to the multiple therapists, the hospital workers, even the that one emergency paramedic. She should have realised she would always be anxious and unstable to the point of being just a step away from a psychotic breakdown. In a way though, its poetic how her final descent into madness is in the woods, lost and so far away from everything else at home. It almost, she thinks bitterly, is a story worth writing about. 

She hobbles away from the foot of the tree, not caring about which direction she's walking. For all she knows, its been hours since her disappearance. Maybe she's not really here. Maybe she's been rescued already, and is violently hallucinating founatains and girls eating roses and strange figures outside her windows as she's strapped to a gurney. 

She limps aimlessly with no hope of finding the group again, an odd feeling of serenity overtaking her. If this is madness, she should have tried it earlier. Being completely alone, finally entirely incapable, knowing that she's beyond recovery. So different from the constant, crushing weight of expectations she's been burdened with the last five years, all those years of hoping and failing and disappointments. 

The sound of water gets louder and louder, gushing in streams. 

Her ankle makes a nasty noise and Haseul yelps, forced to stop and sit down. 

Something shifts in the periphery and Haseul looks up with a start to realise its another girl. 

Or maybe its not a girl in the traditional sense, just another violent hallucination. Whoever it is has soft pink hair, framing her face in waves, and the most unique bone structure that Haseul has ever seen. Wide cheekbones, pretty brown eyes, and a sharp jaw line, rivalled only by the slopes of her collarbones peeking out from the low neckline of her white dress. She's barefoot and the hem of her white dress is long and dirty, clearly having been dragged through the dirt and mud for a while now. 

Haseul used to be so afraid of everything, including her own loved ones. Now, she smiles widely, taking comfort in her madness. "Hello" she says confidently, knowing her grin is so wide its unsettling. "Are you another hallucination? Are you a character I imagined?"

"I'm a dream" says the girl, her voice soft and velvety. She seems to be flickering in and out at the edges, but damn if she doesn't seem real. Haseul has no idea how her fevered mind came up with someone so otherwordly and pretty. 

"Yeah? Well this-" she says pointing to her leg, "isn't exactly what I would call a good dream though"

The hallucination seems to smile at this slightly, though its not clear because she keeps flickering in and out. It bends down, and Haseul is impressed with her imagination, because the way the sun hits her hair is picture perfect and oh so pretty. 

And then the girl wraps her fingers around Haseul's ankle, definetely, and terrifyingly real. 

Haseul screams as she jerks her foot forward, surprisingly strong. The sound of splashing gets louder and louder, and then she realises with a start that they are footsteps coming from her left side. 

"Help!" she cries out, scrabbling to hold the tree bark beside her. Then she looks up again and realises the girl has completely disappeared. 

The footsteps get closer and closer, and then Sooyoung bursts from in between the trees, closely followed by the rest of the group. "Oh my god!" exclaims Jinsoul upon seeing her. "Are you okay?"

"I went looking for you and got lost and then-" starts Haseul and then stops. She feels so dazed. How is she going to start explaining this to people? The story of not one but two girls hanging out in the woods sounds like the kind of thing she'd write in a book three years ago. 

Jinsoul gently props her up against the tree and crouches in the dirt to examine her ankle. The other girls cluster around, looking worried, Hyunjin searching through her pockets for what appears to be painkillers and the loud girl wringing her hands. 

Sooyoung stands a little to the side, patiently waiting for instructions from Jinsoul. She's calm, poised, and looking directly at Haseul's face. 

It hits Haseul that part of the reason she's so unsettled by Sooyoung is because the other girl SEES her, looks into her eyes and stares her down when girls like Jinsoul and Junguen always glance away. It feels somehow like Sooyoung knows what's going on between the surface, and with the apparitions in the woods, it makes her unreasonably nervous. 

There's some sort of hurried discussion between the group, Sooyoung not included, and then the loud girl dusts off her hands. "Alright" she says, looking unreasonably cheerful, almost like she's afraid of what will happen if she stops smiling. "Haseul, we're going to pick you up and carry you to the cabin, okay? And then we can get you some ice for your foot"

The edges of her vision are blurring, but she nods. Her ankle is hurting so much that she can't think. 

Arms wrap themselves arond her body, similiar to her nightmare and the feverish feeling of being dragged without her will. Her head is pounding, and she knows its the onset of a migraine. She can still feel the faint impression of the hallucination holding her foot, the soft pads of her fingers, her cool hands. 

Why do her ghosts seem so real in the woods? She thought her demons were real when her mistakes had haunted her enough to make her stop functioning, but never had anyone-her mother, her brother, her father, the girl she'd loved in the past-literally come back and held her. 

She sways from the rhythm of hands lifting her up, the thud of their footsteps as they lead her to a tiny cabin, its wooden walls blending in perfectly with the trees around it. 

Like her room, one entire wall is just window, and outside a river is gushing past the house, the sound of running water agony on her skull. 

Someone hands her a blanket and instead of wrapping it around her shoulders, she pulls it over her head and shakes back and forth. The migraine is in full force now, pounding at her temples, and the brightness outside doesn't help. She might whimper out loud, though she's not sure. Everything hurts so badly, she should have never strained herself and walked through the woods. 

For a while, voices chatter around each other, but gradually everything goes silent. When her head stops hurting enough, she looks up to see that she's alone in the room, except for Sooyoung sitting at a couch at the far end, waiting patiently. 

She looks expectant. 

They need to talk. 

**Author's Note:**

> Possible warnings  
\- Mentions of character death  
\- Explorations of mental illness, particularly hallucinations, anxiety and depression + alot of nightmares  
\- Mentions of past instability


End file.
